Branded by Fire (7 page)

“We are so not doing this,” she said, having to force the words out past the constriction in her throat.

Amber eyes glinted at the periphery of her vision. “We already did.”

She felt like she was drowning in the indelible
maleness
of him. “Once.” Enough to take the edge off her need, to give her back control over her own body. “And it’s going to remain that way.” She pushed the button that lowered all the windows.

He took another deep breath, as if savoring the musk of her damp heat, and her hands clenched on the manual steering wheel. If she hadn’t been able to sense his own arousal, she’d have thought he was just messing with her. But he very definitely wanted her—the brutal hunger of him was a pulse against her body, powerful and boldly masculine.

“Stop the car.”

She made an undignified squeaking sound in the back of her throat. “No way in hell.” The instant she did that, she knew full well she’d end up on top of Riley, riding him to erotic oblivion.

Silence from the passenger seat.

The leopard clawed at her, more than ready to sate its hunger. “You know I’m right.”

“Is it the fact that I’m a wolf, or the fact that I made you whimper?” Controlled words, so damn controlled. Except for the pulse of heat that kept slapping into her body over and over.

“It’s the fact that you aggravate the shit out of me.” She set her jaw. “I’m not a slave to my hormones.” It was a reminder to herself.

A bark of laughter from the wolf next to her. Close, so close. His breath—hot, harsh, male—whispered over her ear as he said, “I don’t know any woman more in command of herself than you.”

She shot him a narrow-eyed glance. “And that gets your panties in a twist, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Okay, she hadn’t expected that answer. Sweat beaded along her spine as her body fought the urge to give in to the sexual flames licking at every inch of her skin. God, but she wanted to crawl into his lap and just
taste
. “Let me guess,” she said, thrusting aside the disturbing depth of her response, “you dream of a submissive little wolfie at home, barefoot and pregnant?”

“What’s wrong with that? You saying your submissive members have no value?”

Oh, he was annoying her on purpose. “I didn’t say that. This is about you not being able to handle a woman who’s your equal.”

A very deliberate pause. “I don’t see one nearby.”

She was close to breaking the steering wheel. “I’m going to ignore you now.”

To her surprise, he didn’t say anything in return. When she glanced over, he had his head turned toward the open window. Strong jaw—stubborn jaw—a touch of dark stubble, lips that she knew full well could turn soft when they wanted, hair that lifted easily in the breeze, but was shorter than that of most changelings.

Since when did she find that sexy?

Blinking, she stared through the windshield. It was just a weird chemical attraction, she told herself. She’d been too long without sex and, judging from the ferocity with which he’d taken her, so had Riley. They’d scratched each other’s itch and that was that. Done. Finito. Over.

It was her mother’s voice. For some reason, whenever she got stupid, her mental voice turned into her mother’s. Good thing her mom didn’t know about Riley—she’d probably have a coronary.

Wolf and leopard?

Yeah, right.

 

 

Having somehow survived Mercy’s driving, Riley nodded hellos at the DarkRiver soldiers Nate had pulled to watch the Baker home and asked one of them to check under the house. “See if you can spot anything that could’ve been used to pipe gas into the house. Don’t touch it. Just check.”

The man’s eyes flicked to Mercy. She gave him a nod and he headed off. It irritated Riley that the male hadn’t immediately followed his order, but the lieutenant in him was impressed. These men didn’t yet know that Riley and Mercy were heading this together—if the soldier had obeyed him, it would’ve betrayed a lack of discipline.

“Owen,” Mercy said to the remaining soldier now, “Riley’s on this with me.”

Owen gave a military-perfect nod, but as Mercy turned away, Riley glimpsed disappointment. Why? Then Owen’s nostrils flared and he knew. Boy had been hoping to be the one Mercy would choose to break her sexual fast. Inside him, the wolf’s lips curled up to display razor-sharp canines, and his next words came from a part of him Mercy alone seemed to awaken. “Ready, kitty?” He kept his tone low . . . private.

Her eyes dipped to his crotch. She licked her lips. And he came to raging, painful hardness in a second. “Why, yes, Riley. Let’s go inside.” She walked off ahead of him, her hips swaying in a way that was all sorts of provocation.

The wolf couldn’t decide whether to snarl or open its mouth in a savage smile, the smile of a predator that knew it had been bested. Deciding to think on it, he followed her into the house, the noxious smell of the perfume the abductors had sprayed heavy in his nose.

It should’ve drowned out the sweet musk of Mercy’s arousal.

Of course it didn’t. Because Mercy was a she-devil who delighted in irritating him. Alright, he allowed reluctantly, perhaps the scent wasn’t on purpose, but Christ Almighty, did she have to smell so damn good? He wanted to do what he’d done last night—bury his face in her neck from behind and take a long, deep taste.

His mind taunted him with the image of her panting and angry below him, wildfire barely contained. To deal with her, to
be
with her, he’d had to unleash the wolf. He didn’t like being out of control. But neither did he plan on letting Mercy ignore the inferno between them.

The object of his thoughts met him in the middle of the house, having apparently gone straight through to the back and worked her way forward. “You pick up anything?” She was all business now.

He shook his head, telling himself to get a grip. Teasing was fine—she’d play with him, cat that she was. But if she got even a hint of just how badly he wanted her, she wouldn’t let him within touching distance—just on principle. So he’d have to play this cat-and-wolf game until she gave in to the hunger between them.

Then he’d gorge on her. Until she was out of his fucking system.

Because no way in hell was Riley Kincaid about to be enslaved by a lust that seemed to know no boundaries—exactly like the woman who inspired that lust.

“Riley,” she snapped. “Stop checking out my boobs and pay attention.”

“I’ve seen them already,” he said, reacting in a way he only ever did with this cat. “They’re nothing to moon over.” What they were, were ripe, succulent, perfect for biting. Her skin was the rich cream of a true redhead, dusted with a luscious hint of gold. It showed every kiss, every bite mark. He could still see the one he’d made last night—it took everything he had not to lean in, place his mouth over that mark, and suck.

“Yeah, same.” Her eyes dropped meaningfully before lifting. “Now that we’ve both got that out of our systems, can we get to work?” Sarcastic words, but her scent was a stroke against his senses, cutting through the perfume as if it didn’t exist.

His skin stretched tight over his body. But he was a lieutenant—and little Willow was relying on them to find her brother. “You take that side, I’ll do this one.”

With a nod, she walked away. He watched her move for a second before heading to do his own part of the job. He was used to working with a strong female—Indigo was his right hand in the pack. But where Indigo was calm and collected, a perfect complement to his practical personality, Mercy was red-hot passion.

He never argued with Indigo, not about anything personal. So the fact that Mercy was a powerful, dominant female had nothing to do with why he couldn’t be around her for more than two minutes without losing the cool that was as much a part of him as his status as Hawke’s most senior lieutenant.

Something scratched across his senses. Crouching down, he tried to follow the scent hidden in the miasma of fading perfume. It was there, a shiny thread but worn through, thin, so very, very thin. There, he caught it.

His first thought was of the Psy. A lot of the ones in the PsyNet had a metallic edge to their natural scent that repelled changelings. This was similar but . . .
too
metallic. There was no life to it. And the Psy, for all their coldness, were still sentient, living beings. Following it across the room, he saw something lying on the floor below an end table. “Mercy,” he said softly, knowing she’d hear him.

“You got something.” She was beside him moments later.

“There.”

She crawled lower, her body brushing along his side. The wolf growled. And it wasn’t in rejection. Then she whistled. “I’ve seen one of those before. It’s the same as that chip thing the Alliance soldiers had in the backs of their necks when they tried to kidnap Ashaya.”

“I figured as much—I haven’t seen one but Bren described it to me.” His sister was a highly qualified tech, part of the team working with Ashaya Aleine to figure out the chips. This one, he saw, was still attached to a bloody hunk of flesh. “Ripped out. Nash?”

“I’m guessing.” She paused. “I know when my brothers used to sneak out when we were young, I always knew before my parents. Oldest sibling intuition. Maybe Nash was outside tracking Willow when they gassed the place?”

He had seen Mercy’s brothers around but now wondered what they were like. Redheaded hellions probably. “Makes sense. He steps out, escapes the gassing, comes back in because he hears something, and that’s when they attempt to grab him, not realizing there’s another kid out in the woods.”

Nodding, Mercy touched the floor and came away with a thin layer of dust. “He shifted. This is from his clothes disintegrating.”

Riley sniffed at the finger she held up. “I can scent denim.”

“You can?” She raised it to her own nose. “I can’t.”

He couldn’t help it—she brought out the wolf’s most wicked edge. “That’s because I’m older and stronger.”

She shot him an evil look. “As I was saying, Nash shifted. Most likely after he ripped that chip off.”

“Could’ve done it in animal form, too. Lynx are small and agile, especially when they’re pissed.” He barely resisted the urge to stroke his hand down the sweep of her back and over her bottom. Mercy was beautifully built, all smooth curves and muscled grace. What would it be like, he wondered, to have the right to caress her as he pleased? The wolf was oddly intrigued by the idea.

“Hmm.” She sat back up on her haunches. “But they still got him. Had to be more than one—the Alliance’s modus ope randi seems to be to overprepare rather than under.”

“We’ve got enough flesh to get DNA if the attacker’s in any database.” There was no question of going to Enforcement. This was changeling territory, changeling victims, therefore changeling law applied.

Not only that, but Enforcement had so many Psy stooges, nothing ever stayed secret. Until they knew what was happening, they couldn’t afford to tip off the Council. Having lost two highly trained scientific minds when Ashaya and her twin, Amara, defected, chances were the Councilors would try to commandeer the Alliance chip and Nash both.

As for the assailants . . . too fucking bad. “Don’t move the chip. There might be trace around it.”

“Really?”
Doing an atrocious vocal impersonation of a Southern belle, Mercy fluttered her eyelashes. “Why, I’m so glad you’re here to tell me, Mr. Kincaid—I might not have figured that out all by my lonesome.”

He felt his lips twitch. “I think you have something in your eye.”

He was certain he saw a flash of amusement but then she shook her head and her voice shifted to work mode, any hint of play buried deep. “The techs should do the whole house in case they left any other calling cards. Might as well call Ashaya, too, have her come out with her team.”

As Mercy spoke to the M-Psy who’d mated with Dorian, Riley shifted closer—smiling inwardly at her slight responsive jerk—and bent to look at the chip. It wasn’t tiny. Maybe one square centimeter. But even without a microscope, he could see that it was a complex piece of work. Some kind of neuroinhibitor, was the current theory.

But what exactly did it inhibit?

“She’s on her way,” Mercy said, folding up the phone and—surprisingly—not pulling away. Instead she pressed closer, their heads side by side. “It’s a hell of a piece of work.”

Her hair brushed his arm, and he remembered how the strands had felt sliding over his skin as she kissed her way down his body that last time. “Yeah.” His voice was half growl, the wolf’s frustration rising to the surface. “Let’s leave this for Ashaya and do a sweep around the house—they might’ve left a trail at their entry point.”

“Nate had the men take turns doing that already—nothing.”

“None of them is a lieutenant or a sentinel.”

A slanted glance. “Is that a compliment?”

“No, it’s a fact.” He watched her rise to her feet in a fluid move that was intrinsically feline. “I’m going to give Judd a call—he’s got contacts in the Net, can get a feel for whether this was a Psy thing.”

Mercy nodded. “I’ll utilize our own contacts, too. But my gut says the Psy aren’t involved, at least not directly.” Her eyes met his, the leopard apparent in the sheen of gold that overlaid her gaze for a fleeting instant. “Time to move, wolf.”

Adrenaline speared through his veins as he realized she was beginning to lose the battle to rein in her own hunger. “Lead the way, cat.”

CHAPTER 9

Mercy finished the first pass around the Baker home and shook her head. Nothing. Nada. Zip. The scent trail had had hours to dissipate. Riley silently indicated the next pass and off they went, having decided to do this in animal form. As she left, Mercy wondered what anyone would think if they saw a leopard standing face-to-face with a heavily muscled wolf.